


The Devil's in the Details

by Catalina_Leigh



Category: NCIS
Genre: Case, Crimes & Criminals, Drug Dealing, Organized Crime, Pre-Series, Undercover Work, how Gibbs met Tony, murder case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 09:30:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15264519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catalina_Leigh/pseuds/Catalina_Leigh
Summary: A dead petty officer. A cheeky suspect. A smart drug lord. And several homicides. All connected. But the devil's in the details.





	1. Part I & II

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first NCIS fic I wrote. My own little take on how Gibbs met Tony. Enjoy!

  
Part I

Gibbs felt a small amount of pleasure at the _oomph_ coming from the young man as the breath was knocked out of him when the marine slammed him onto the hood of the car. The agent even almost – _almost_ – cracked a smile when the kid winced as Gibbs fastened the handcuffs around his wrists a little more forcefully, and a little tighter, than necessary.

"Shut up!" Gibbs snapped when the young man started to protest as the agent began searching him.

Kicking the kid's feet further apart when he continued to struggle, Gibbs effectively cut off any further protests by grinding the guy's face firmly into the hood of the car. The kid wasn't going anywhere as one hand held his head down and a leg kept his feet spread, the agent's body weight immobilizing him as Gibbs's other hand patted him down.

Not that he would ever admit it, but Gibbs's satisfaction was from more than causing the guy any discomfort he could. After chasing the punk six blocks, not including shortcuts through alleys and a small restaurant, and then the scuffle, Gibbs had worked up a sweat. Only to himself, the marine would say the kid could brawl. An aching jaw, some sore ribs, and a knee that would hate him even more in the morning reminded Gibbs that he wasn't as young as he used to be. The difference was that he had the training, and this guy's down and dirty style said he'd learned to fight on the street.

"Well, well, well…What do we have here?" Gibbs taunted.

After emptying the young man's pockets of keys, a wad of cash, some loose change, and a pocketknife, Gibbs found a handgun tucked into the waistband of the kid's jeans.

"'s n't m'ne." The reply was garbled since half the guy's face was still pressed into the hood.

"Oh yeah?" Gibbs's tone was dripping with sarcasm, but dangerously sharp. "Then whose is it wiseass?"

Even with his face smooshed between the agent's hand and the vehicle, the young man's shit-eating grin was still clear as day, especially with the mischievous spark shining in his eyes. But his mumbled reply was too unintelligible.

So Gibbs moved the hand that had been holding his head down and raised him a fraction off the hood by his collar. "What was that?" he growled into the kid's ear.

Grinning as he looked at Gibbs out of the corner of his eye, the young man repeated slowly as if talking to an idiot, "I said, it's your mama's."

Roughly, Gibbs hauled the guy up and turned him so they were face to face. Inches apart, Gibbs's icy glare bore into the bright hazel one staring back at him.

Fists tightening their hold on the kid's hoodie, Gibbs lowered his voice to the scary quiet that had most people running. "You think you're a tough guy, don't ya?"

But this guy just kept grinning, and chuckled, "Well, yeah!" His tone had a definite 'duh!' quality to it.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes before allowing a small smirk.

"We'll see how tough you are," he muttered as he stepped back, dragging the chuckling kid with him before throwing him in the backseat of the sedan.

Part II

"Tell me you got something Abs," Gibbs said as he entered the lab.

"Of course I do Gibbs," the forensic scientist replied easily, hitting a few buttons on her keyboard as the agent set a Caf-Pow! down in front of her. "Meet Tommy DeMarco," Abby said as she put up a file on the big screen, a picture of the young man Gibbs had arrested staring back at them.

Though the date of birth listed said the guy was twenty-eight, Gibbs thought his description of 'kid' fit much better.

"What do we know about him?" Gibbs asked, while also taking note that the scowl the kid was wearing in the mug shot looked more natural than the cheeky grin that had been almost constant since Gibbs had slapped the cuffs on.

"He's cute."

Gibbs scowled, but Abby's smile remained firmly in place.

"In that charming bad boy sense," she clarified. "But he's definitely a jock." She said it as if that was a deal breaker, and Gibbs gave her a look. "Right, moving on," she smirked. In a more business-like tone, Abby continued, "Multiple priors including assaulting a police officer, a couple drunk and disorderlies, and – you're gonna love this – drug trafficking. He did four years for the trafficking charge. Did time as a kid too. He's got a juvenile record for assault, possession, and armed robbery."

"Career criminal," Gibbs sighed. Turning back to Abby, he asked, "Any connection to our dead petty officer?"

"Not that I can find," Abby admitted before smiling reassuringly. "So far. But – " she added in a drawl. "His last known address is only a couple blocks from the bar where Petty Officer Patrick was last seen."

"Good work Abs," Gibbs told her, kissing her cheek on his way out.


	2. Part III

  
Part III

DeMarco was lounging in the chair with his feet propped up on the table and head tilted back when Gibbs walked into the interrogation room. With his eyes closed and hands resting on his stomach, the kid almost looked like he was sleeping. But Gibbs wasn't fooled.

When the agent slammed the door shut, DeMarco raised his head to look at the marine and smiled. "Hey, you got my pizza? Cause I ordered a while ago, and they're usually much better about delivery times."

Ignoring the gibe, Gibbs shoved his feet off the table, keeping a blank but cool expression as he moved to sit in the chair on the other side.

His feet hitting the ground with a loud thud, DeMarco smirked and gave the agent a 'touché' nod. The smirk remained in place as he turned so that he was facing the agent, and slouched down in his seat. Looking at ease, he leaned back and waited for the agent to speak.

Gibbs didn't speak for a few minutes, just staring at the young man. DeMarco held the look easily, and the agent caught the amusement twinkling in the guy's eyes.

Opening up the file in his hand, Gibbs spoke lightly while his eyes were on the file. "Tommy DeMarco…"

DeMarco gave a small shrug. "Congratulations, you ran my prints," he drawled slowly.

Briefly flicking his eyes up to the young man, Gibbs continued looking at the file and commented, "Quite a record you got Tommy."

Again DeMarco shrugged. "What can I say? I got skills."

The arrogant tone had Gibbs raising his eyebrows at the young man. "Skill woulda been not getting caught," he retorted.

"Learning curve," DeMarco shot right back.

Inwardly Gibbs smiled. Though it was subtle, the kid's body tensed and his tone hardened in defensiveness. He may have been keeping a neutral, if not relaxed, expression, but his eyes were challenging Gibbs.

"What were you doing at the factory?" Gibbs asked.

"Picking up a package."

"What was in the package?"

DeMarco shrugged. "Dunno."

"You don't know?" Gibbs tone was light, but obviously disbelieving.

"Nope."

Gibbs let out a puff that might've been a chuckle for anyone else. "Now why don't I believe that?"

Again, DeMarco shrugged. A smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth as he leaned back against the chair more and slouched down further, crossing his arms over his chest as he did.

Taking the move for the defiance it was, Gibbs nodded and asked a different question. "Ok, where is this package now? Cause you didn't have it on you."

"Never picked it up," came the easy reply.

"Why not?"

Smirking, DeMarco waved his hands around the room in answer.

Mirroring the smirk, Gibbs nodded. "Okay. So why'd you run?"

"Cops aren't really my biggest fans," DeMarco retorted.

Giving a brief nod, the agent pulled out a picture from the file. "Sure it didn't have anything to do with this guy?" Gibbs asked, putting the picture of the dead petty officer down on the table in front of DeMarco.

The guy's face was unreadable as he looked at the picture and then back at Gibbs, so the marine continued.

"Petty Officer Ryan Patrick," Gibbs started, pointing to the picture. His tone was hard. "He was last seen at a bar two blocks from where you live. According to his buddies, he liked to party a little too hard, and not just with booze. You're a drug dealer." Gibbs set down another photo in front of the young man. "Petty Officer Patrick was killed with this forty caliber bullet," he continued, pointing to the picture of the slug pulled out of the petty officer. "The handgun you were carrying is a forty caliber. So tell me, Tommy DeMarco…When our ballistics tests come back, are they gonna match the bullet that killed Petty Officer Patrick to your gun?" Gibbs asked, leaning back in his own chair.

"No."

"No?"

"No."

DeMarco's tone was sure, but the glint in his eyes wasn't arrogance. Narrowing his eyes, Gibbs considered the young man before him. There was something there that the agent couldn't quite put his finger on, and it had his gut churning. But whatever he'd seen was gone quicker than it came, and DeMarco spoke again, using that cocky, sarcastic tone that had been annoying Gibbs since he'd caught the guy.

"You've got an interesting theory Agent…?" He cocked his head sideways, as if just realizing he didn't know the name of the agent who'd arrested him.

"Gibbs."

"Gibbs," DeMarco repeated, smiling. "But there's a big problem with this theory of yours."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Gibbs questioned, playing along for the moment.

Smirking, DeMarco leaned forward, looking like a kid about to tell a big secret. "It's all circumstantial." Laughing, he sat back and started counting off on his fingers. "So I live near a bar…A lot of people do. You say I'm a drug dealer, which – granted – may have been true in the past, but did you find any drugs on me? No!"

"What about the three hundred and twenty bucks in small bills that was in your pocket?" Gibbs challenged. "Not exactly chump change."

"Three hundred and twenty- _one_ dollars and forty-two cents if you include the change that was also in my pocket," DeMarco corrected smoothly before answering, "And what can I say? I don't trust banks or cards."

Gibbs allowed a half-smile at that response.

Continuing on, DeMarco finished, "As for the gun, well…that's simple. It's not mine."

"Oh really?" Gibbs drawled, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms.

"Really," DeMarco nodded enthusiastically.

"Ok, I'll bite," Gibbs shrugged after staring at the kid for a minute. "If it's not yours, then whose is it?"

DeMarco shrugged, shaking his head and grinning. "I have no idea! You're the one who planted it, you tell me."

The agent raised his eyebrows and stared. DeMarco was still grinning.

"I planted it?" Gibbs repeated, pointing to himself. His tone was doubtful, but light enough to say he'd play along to see where this went.

DeMarco nodded, but shrugged when Gibbs gave him a glare that said 'explain'. "All I know is I didn't have a gun, but then you somehow magically find one on me. How do you explain that Mr. Special Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs started chuckling.

The kid kept smiling, but after a minute it started to fade into confusion.

"You think you can talk your way out of this, don't you?" Gibbs asked. His voice and face still held a trace of amusement that was offset by the hard glare in his icy eyes.

"Well, I'm right," DeMarco shrugged with a casualness that made him seem remarkably calm, but when compared to the bright wise guy attitude he'd had previously it told Gibbs he was getting tired of playing this game.

"Ok then, tough guy," Gibbs relented, leaning forward on the table. "You wanna keep screwing around? Fine. We've got you for illegal possession of a firearm, assaulting a federal officer, and resisting arrest. _And_ we've got enough to hold you on suspicion of murder. So you better get comfy cause you're not going anywhere. Question is, are you gonna make things easier on yourself and we have a nice chat in here, or are you gonna sit in holding till we transfer you to the Federal Detention Center?"

A small smirk had slowly quirked one side of DeMarco's mouth upwards. "I got nothing to say."

Frowning, Gibbs huffed and all but stormed out of the room.


	3. Part IV, V, & VI

Part IV

"Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!"

"What is it Abby?" the agent sighed as the goth came running down the hallway towards the interrogation room he'd just stepped out of.

"I got the ballistics report," Abby told him, sounding only faintly put out by his 'I'm not in the mood' tone.

But her words perked Gibbs up like a cup of strong coffee. "And?"

Abby frowned. "And it's not a match. Sorry Gibbs. DeMarco may be the killer, but the gun you found on him is _not_ the murder weapon."

Gibbs let out a heavy sigh, running a hand over his chin. "Thanks Abs."

Part V

When Gibbs walked into the observation room, he found Director Morrow watching DeMarco, who was once again leaning back in the chair with his feet up on the table.

"Cocky son of a bitch," Morrow commented as Gibbs came to stand beside him.

"Yes, Sir," Gibbs agreed easily.

"With good reason."

Gibbs looked at the Director. "Sir?"

Sighing, Morrow told him, "I just got a call from a captain in the Baltimore Police Department. Apparently this DeMarco fellow is a CI of theirs. They seem to think he's gonna be key to taking down a local drug lord suspected in several homicides."

"Any chance our cases are connected?" Gibbs wondered.

"That's what I want you to find out," Morrow said. "They agreed to send over copies of their files as long as they're kept in the loop if we find new information. In the meantime," the Director continued with an unwavering, yet apologetic, look at his agent. "Release Mr. DeMarco."

"We still got him on the weapons charge," Gibbs argued.

"This is not a debate Gibbs," Morrow replied firmly. "Make a deal. Drop the weapons charge in exchange for any information he may have on Petty Officer Patrick's murder, and then cut him loose."

Part VI

This time when Gibbs entered the interrogation room, he remained in front of the door, scowling at the kid in front of him. DeMarco hadn't looked up at him yet, but the agent watched the smile appear on his lips.

"Let me guess, they told you to let me go?"

At that moment Gibbs wanted nothing more than to flip the young man out of the chair he was reclining in and wipe the smugness right off his face. But, the marine had a job to do, and remained outwardly impassive.

"Sit up!"

The bark startled the kid, but he recovered fast. Schooling his features back into cocky and carefree, DeMarco did pull his feet down off the table and sit up in his chair. However, his movements were deliberately slower than molasses, and Gibbs knew he was doing it just to get under his skin.

Slamming the file down on the table, the agent placed one hand on the table in front of DeMarco and one hand on the back of his chair, and leaned in so that he was right next to the kid's face. Though his expression never faltered, Gibbs felt DeMarco tense up at the close proximity.

"This is how it's gonna go," Gibbs growled in a dangerously quiet voice. "If you wanna walk out of here _without_ the cuffs, then you are going to lose the attitude, quit screwing around, and tell me _everything_ you know about Petty Officer Patrick's murder. Are we clear?"

While he was speaking, though Gibbs's voice barely rose, his tone hardened with every word. And with every word, DeMarco's features slowly morphed from airy into a scowl. The kid never moved an inch, but his gaze slowly rose to meet the agent's. Gibbs's icy blue eyes were matched in intensity by DeMarco's hard hazel ones.

"Crystal." The way he ground out his answer matched the fire in his eyes.

It reminded Gibbs of how natural the scowl in his mug shot seemed, especially in comparison to the cheeky wiseass routine that had been almost nonstop since the agent had caught him. Gibbs was good enough at reading people and had enough experience as an agent to recognize deflection when he saw it. The kid was good; he'd give him that. Annoyance with DeMarco's attitude had almost blinded him, but Gibbs finally recognized it for what it was. An act. Truth was this was one angry young man.

That realization nagged at the agent's legendary gut for some reason. But he didn't have time to dwell on it. He still had a job to do.

With one quick, sharp nod, Gibbs backed off and took his seat across the table from DeMarco.

Placing the picture of the dead petty officer back in front the kid, Gibbs pointed to it and ordered, "Petty Officer Ryan Patrick. _Everything_. Go."

After a long resigned sigh, DeMarco finally nodded in defeat.


	4. Part VII & VIII

Part VII

"Is this everything from Baltimore?" Gibbs asked when he entered the lab and found Abby, Ducky, and his TAD probie Agent Burns all gathered around the table that was covered in files.

"Yep," Abby answered. "Not the actual evidence, of course, but we've got pictures and copies of all the reports."

"The ME, Dr. Ronald Thompson, did an exceptional job," Ducky said. "And after going over all these reports, I concur with his findings. While the same person might not be responsible for _all_ of the victims, there is certainly an almost identical method of demise for each murder."

"So, same message? Same crew?" Gibbs wondered aloud.

Ducky nodded in agreement. "I would say so. The manner in which these poor people were killed is almost ritualistic. Different heights, strength, and experience between the perpetrators, along with the varying degrees of defensive wounds on the victims could easily account for the subtle disparities in these autopsy reports."

"This MO is linked to one Franklin Ellis. He showed up on Baltimore PD's radar last year, and has since grown his drug ring into a very lucrative, but very dangerous business," Burns added. "His circle is actually fairly small, but he makes big deals. According to these reports from Baltimore's Narcotics Division, he's now the main supplier for several local street gangs. Apparently the former supplier just disappeared."

"More like murdered," Gibbs muttered.

Burns nodded. "Yes, Sir. From these reports, it seems like Ellis gets rid of any competition or anyone who doesn't wanna play by his rules."

_"Word has it he tried to negotiate."_ That was what DeMarco had said about Petty Officer Patrick. _"Los Diablos run that neighborhood, but when it comes to drugs they're just the middle men."_

"How did Baltimore PD tie all these murders to Ellis?" Gibbs questioned.

Abby smiled and held up a picture. "By this right here."

"King of clubs," the senior agent sighed, seeing the card. "How original," he huffed.

"Indeed," Ducky agreed. "I believe this Mr. Ellis thinks very highly of himself. Most likely, he is under the assumption that he's untouchable."

"So far, he's right."

The glare Gibbs sent Burns had the probie backtracking immediately.

"W-What I mean is, Baltimore PD still hasn't been able to tie him to any of the murders. They're not even sure if he's actually killed anyone or just had his guys do it. They haven't even been able to bring him in for questioning on the drugs."

"Cause he'll just lawyer up," Gibbs retorted harshly.

"Gibbs," Abby began placatingly. "Burns is right, there's no physical evidence tying Ellis to any of this. All the evidence Baltimore PD has – " She gestured to all the files spread across her lab table. "Is circumstantial at best. Ellis is clean on paper. Like squeaky, sterile, isolation chamber clean. The most they've been able to do is figure out who his associates are, most of whom have violent and/or drug related records."

"They've been monitoring Ellis and his circle the best they can, but without enough for warrants their intel is pretty limited," Burns added.

"Mr. Ellis is definitely one smart fellow," Ducky stated.

Gibbs rolled his eyes, pacing for a second before turning back to the others. "Where does DeMarco fit into all this?"

"Ah, yes. I heard about your recent interactions with young Mr. DeMarco," Ducky said knowingly. "Quite the conundrum, isn't he?"

The doctor merely smiled at Gibbs's glare.

It was Burns who finally answered the senior agent's question. "Tommy DeMarco seems to be something of a liaison between Ellis and the local gangs."

"Though this guy, Aaron Sharp, is like Ellis's number two, DeMarco is right up there with him," Abby added.

"And we just let him walk out of here?" Gibbs snapped.

"Actually, we were ordered to release him," Burns corrected, his voice trailing off as the senior agent turned his anger towards him.

"According to the notes in these files," Abby started, stepping in to save the probie. "DeMarco has been helping Baltimore PD identify the players in Ellis's business. From who's who in the circle, to where the drugs are coming from, to who the drugs are going to."

"They think there's going to be a large shipment coming in soon, and they're hoping DeMarco will be able to tell them the when and where," Burns added after swallowing his nervousness, though now standing a little closer to Abby.

Gibbs took a deep breath and ran a hand across his chin.

"Duck, does Petty Officer Patrick's death seem connected to all these other murders?" Gibbs asked the ME.

Nodding slightly, the elder gentleman informed him, "I would say with a great deal of certainty that yes, our petty officer's death was the work of the same people responsible for these others as well."

Turning to the forensic scientist, Gibbs asked, "Did we find – "

"A king of clubs was found in between credit cards in our victim's wallet," Abby answered before he could finish.

Gibbs nodded. "Burns, go back over all the witness statements. See if there's mention of anything connected to Ellis or his guys. Abby, you and Ducky go back over all the evidence, and see if you can't find something Baltimore missed to tie these murders to Ellis and his crew."

"Where are you going?" Abby asked as Gibbs started walking away.

"Baltimore. To talk to the lead detective," he called over his should before getting on the elevator.

Part VIII

"Detective Bates," Gibbs greeted mildly, taking a sip of his coffee.

"What am I doing here Agent Gibbs?" the detective, who despite looking like he was in his mid to late thirties already had grey flecked throughout his hair, asked as he sat down on the park bench next to the agent. "We already gave you guys copies of everything we have."

"I wanna know what's not in the files," Gibbs replied simply.

Bates sighed heavily. Leaning back, his reluctance was clear. "Like?"

"Like how much of your case is based on the word of a career criminal?"

Gibbs couldn't be sure whether it was the edge in his voice or the question itself that was responsible for the detective's reaction. A mix between startled and amused was the best way Gibbs could describe it.

"Who? Tommy?" Bates chuckled. "Got under your skin too, huh?" When the agent glared, Bates became more serious but retained his smirk. "Look, DeMarco knows stuff we don't. He's a valuable source of intel, and I'll use him any way I can. But I assure you Agent Gibbs, our case is solid."

"Really? With what evidence?" Gibbs retorted. "Cause from what I saw, all you got is circumstantial."

Taking a deep breath and exhaling heavily, Bates sat up a little straighter. "Like you said, not everything's in those files," he admitted quietly.

The agent watched the detective for a long moment, studying him.

"What aren't you telling me?" Gibbs's tone was a soft, but firm demand for the truth.

Bates sighed, but met the agent's gaze steadily. "Look Agent Gibbs, our case is solid. I promise you. When this big shipment comes in, we're gonna be there, and we're gonna bring the whole house down."

Calm, firm, and one hundred percent sure. That was how the marine read the detective.

Nodding his acceptance, Gibbs took a sip of his coffee as he looked back out over the park before speaking. "And what about DeMarco?"

At the mention of his CI, Detective Bates looked down. Gibbs would swear he saw a sad smile flicker over the man's features, but it was gone in a heartbeat.

"He knows the score," the detective finally answered. "When this is over, Tommy DeMarco is going away for a long time."

Whether it was what he said, or how he said it, Gibbs couldn't be sure, but something about Bates's statement didn't sit right with him.

"So why's he helping you at all? What does he get out of it?" Gibbs asked.

Bates shrugged. "Reduced sentence in a separate facility. And a clearer conscious."

Gibbs puffed. "Hell of a deal."

Shrugging again, the detective seemed to realize the agent wasn't satisfied with that answer. Scratching his neck, Bates continued, "We coulda busted him six months ago, but we knew he could be useful in bringing down Ellis so we offered him a deal. He took it."

The agent nodded slowly, and Bates seemed to take that as they were finished. He stood up and was a few paces away before Gibbs called out to him. Turning back, the detective saw the icy stare directed at him.

"I've got a dead petty officer that was probably killed by your guys. When that bust goes down, I'm gonna be there."

Bates nodded. "I'll make sure to let you know the when and where Agent Gibbs," he assured the agent.

Gibbs gave a brief nod before the detective started walking away again. "You do that."


	5. Part IX & X

Part IX

"We're missing something Duck," Gibbs sighed.

The senior agent had been pacing autopsy for the past twenty minutes while his old friend just sat back quietly, watching and waiting. The medical examiner knew Gibbs would say whatever was on his mind, but not until he was ready. In Ducky's experience, that usually meant once the marine was so frustrated he couldn't take it anymore.

"I thought Agent Burns found references to Los Diablos and Mr. Ellis's factory in the witness statements?" Ducky spoke calmly and rationally. He knew patience was the key with Gibbs. "And Abigail and I were able to conclusively link our dead Petty Officer Patrick to the other murders Baltimore PD has attributed to Mr. Ellis and his circle." Seeing the agent nod in agreement but continue his pacing, Ducky added, "So what is it we're missing?"

"I don't know!" the marine snapped.

The ME knew not to take it personally, so he just waited.

Gibbs stopped and turned back to his friend. "The way Bates talked, they know a lot more than they're sharing."

"And you're worried it may ruin the case against Mr. Ellis?" Ducky surmised.

"I don't like not knowing all the facts," Gibbs corrected firmly.

Chuckling softly, the ME nodded. But before he could say anything further, Gibbs phone rang.

Answering in his usual gruff manner, Gibbs listened to the caller for a moment before saying a quick, "Got it," and hanging up.

When the agent turned back his way, Ducky recognized the focused expression.

"Shipment comes in tomorrow morning, 0400," Gibbs offered as an explanation.

"And now you and Agent Burns are headed to Baltimore," Ducky finished.

Gibbs nodded, but the doctor caught his eye roll at the mention of Burns.

"I think Agent Burns is a very capable agent. A little young and inexperienced, perhaps, and quite timid in certain situations, but you have to admit he's handled working for you better than most," Ducky stated lightly, curious as to what was wrong with this one.

"He's a vegan," Gibbs retorted as if that explained everything.

Part X

Gibbs had to hand it to Detective Bates; he knew what he was doing. The raid was well planned, and well executed.

The airfield where the deal was going down was wide open, and created the issue of how to approach quietly. But somehow Bates had managed to get a hold of tranquilizer darts for the snipers to take down the lookouts with. That left Bates, a sergeant from organized crime, and a lieutenant from narcotics, along with their guys and SWAT to cover all the exits. Gibbs and Burns teamed up with a couple SWAT guys to take the side door, and the sergeant and some uniforms covered the back while Bates and the lieutenant breached the front with the rest of SWAT.

For the first few moments it was chaos, filled with shouting. But thankfully no one started shooting, despite almost every person pointing a firearm at each other.

A flash of rage had crossed both Ellis and his European supplier, but neither pulled out their weapons. In fact, they seemed to be the calmest people in the room. Both simply acquiescing when the officers took them into custody.

Muscle for the European seller did not go as quietly, but were quickly subdued by SWAT. A few of Ellis's men tried to run for it, including Sharp and DeMarco.

Sharp's path was blocked by the organized crime sergeant, and DeMarco ran straight into Gibbs. Almost literally.

When he saw DeMarco making a break for it, Gibbs had moved to cut him off. Before the kid had time to react, he was staring right into the barrel of the agent's Sig Sauer that was inches from his face.

"Drop the gun. Get on your knees. Hands on your head," Gibbs ordered roughly, keeping his weapon trained on the young man.

DeMarco didn't move. At all.

"Now!" Anger seeped into Gibbs bark, especially when he saw the amusement dancing in the kid's eyes as they locked onto the agent's cold stare.

But DeMarco seemed to realize it wasn't a good idea to test the agent, and slowly placed his gun on the ground. Between the look in his eyes and the way his mouth was twitching, Gibbs could see DeMarco fighting a smile as he eased down to his knees, keeping his hands on his head.

"Burns," Gibbs snapped, and the probie holstered his weapon to come around and handcuff DeMarco. "Make sure they're tight," the agent added, taking pleasure when the kid almost lost his fight not to smile because of the involuntary wince as Burns followed Gibbs instructions.


	6. Part XI

Part XI

Two weeks after the bust, Gibbs still didn't know who exactly had killed Petty Officer Patrick. They had definitively proven that Ellis and his crew were responsible, but there was no evidence to say which one pulled the trigger. Ellis and his men had all lawyered up, which made it almost impossible to get them to talk.

Now, he'd just finished talking with Bates's captain, and was more frustrated than he had been waiting for Abby to do her own tests on all of the evidence. The captain had assured Gibbs that Ellis and the others would be going to prison for a long time. But Gibbs wasn't satisfied. He wanted to be able to tell Petty Officer Patrick's parents with absolute certainty that the man responsible for their son's death was securely behind bars.

He was too preoccupied with his thoughts that he narrowly avoided colliding into someone as he was leaving the squad room. Not bothering to look, the agent kept on walking.

"Hey! Special Agent Gibbs!"

Gibbs froze. He knew that voice. Sure enough, when he turned around, he saw DeMarco standing there cool as could be. The kid was even grinning a thousand-megawatt smile at the agent. But Gibbs did a double take when he saw the gold shield hanging from the chain around the kid's neck, and the Glock holstered on the kid's right hip.

"Oh! Right," the young man laughed, seeing where the agent's eyes had gone. "We haven't been properly introduced," the kid said brightly, sticking his hand out to the marine. "Detective Anthony DiNozzo, Baltimore Homicide."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows, but the hard stare continued.

Chuckling nervously, DiNozzo awkwardly withdrew his hand after it became evident the agent wasn't going to shake it and let bygones be bygones. "Uh, well, look, I know we got off on th– "

"DiNozzo!" Bates barked from across the room, cutting off the detective's half-stuttered, uneasy apology. "You finish those reports yet?"

"Almost Partner," the kid hollered back.

"You better hurry and finish them up," Bates chuckled. "Wouldn't wanna miss your flight."

"On it!" DiNozzo snapped out with a two-fingered salute to the other detective, who rolled his eyes at the antics. Looking back at Gibbs, the kid gave him an apologetic half-smile. "Duty calls," he shrugged lightly, slapping a file into Gibbs's hand. "Aaron Sharp. He was with Ellis the night your petty officer was killed. Frank rarely got his hands dirty, especially when it came to violence. My money says Sharp's your killer." The serious tone he'd said all of that in changed back to the cheeky one that ground Gibbs's nerves when he added, "A tough guy like you should be able to get a confession out of him, no problem."

With one last grin at the agent, DiNozzo turned and headed across the squad room to a cluttered desk.

"You wanted to know what wasn't in those files that made our case solid?"

Gibbs turned to look at the detective.

"He's it," Bates said firmly, nodding to DiNozzo.

Looking back at the kid, the agent couldn't tell whether he was working on a report, goofing around with the other detectives, or both. From the smirk Bates was wearing, and the way he was shaking his head, Gibbs guessed it was probably the latter.

"Didn't think we should know you had a detective undercover in Ellis's organization?" The agent's tone was accusatory as he glared at the detective.

But Bates just shrugged. "You were an unknown factor Agent Gibbs. We couldn't take the chance that you'd blow his cover, even unintentionally, and risk losing six months worth of intel."

"Had to make it real," Gibbs muttered.

"Exactly," Bates agreed seriously. "We pulled him from a precinct on the other side of town, didn't even tell our guys he was an undercover cop. Only a handful of people knew who he really was," the detective told him.

"His cover still intact?" the agent wondered.

Bates nodded. "Yeah. We locked him up with the rest of them. Pulled him out yesterday. Made it look like we were just transferring him to another facility. We transferred a few others too, just so it wouldn't look suspicious."

After watching DiNozzo for a minute, Gibbs let out a small chuckle. "He's good."

"Yes, he is," the detective agreed wholeheartedly. "He's young, but he's a hell of a detective." Sighing, he all but whispered, "I'm gonna hate to lose him."

Though unsure whether he was supposed to hear that last part or not, Gibbs couldn't stop himself from asking, "What do you mean?"

Looking as if he just realized the agent was still there, Bates took a deep breath before he explained, "Captain's making him take some leave. You know, lay low for a little while. But he's 'bout at the end of his two year warranty anyway, so I won't be surprised if he just doesn't come back."


	7. Epilogue

Epilogue

Part I

As soon as the bolt slid back, the detective's hand was off the key and drawing his Glock. He turned quickly, weapon aimed at the person who'd followed him up to his apartment.

He'd felt someone watching him after he reached his street, and had remained aware enough to know that he was being followed when he entered his building. Though he never expected it to be the person standing in front of him.

Lowering his gun, his face was the picture of bewilderment. "What are you doing here?"

"Could ask you the same thing," was Gibbs's reply.

"I live here!" DiNozzo retorted.

"Though you were supposed to be on a beach somewhere," the agent shot back. "Not running around the city."

Rolling his eyes, DiNozzo pulled his key out the lock and opened his door. "Figured I shouldn't be spending that kind of money when I don't know how long I'm gonna have a paycheck," he muttered by way of explanation.

Gibbs followed him inside. The apartment itself matched the building; run down, paint peeling off the walls, and stains on the ceiling and flooring that may very well be as old as the building. But the stuff inside the apartment seemed to match its inhabitant. The furniture, though not the best by any means, didn't look like it'd been bought at yard sales or Goodwill. Movies, books, and magazines were scattered across the bookshelf, TV stand, coffee table, and even the floor. The entertainment system seemed to be the most expensive thing in the apartment, but judging from the movie posters on the walls and the expansive DVD collection, the kid spent a lot of time watching movies. Though he couldn't see the bedroom or bathroom, the small hallway and living room floor had clothes strewn all across them. Whether they were clean or not, Gibbs didn't want to know.

He looked across to the small kitchen area behind the couch where the kid was searching through a bunch of papers with one hand and using a dishtowel to wipe the sweat off his face with the other.

"So the 'two year warranty' comment Bates made…it true?" the agent asked bluntly.

DiNozzo smirked, barely glancing up at Gibbs. "Not intentionally." He shrugged, "Stuff just always seems to happen."

Nodding, Gibbs walked over and leaned against the counter. "You really quitting?"

The detective let out a long sigh, tossing the dishrag aside and pulling off his hoodie before tossing it aside as well. "After the Ellis case…I stay, and either my cover stays intact and they think I snitched on them, or my cover's blown and they find out I'm a cop. Either way, I'm a target."

"That's true," the agent agreed.

DiNozzo narrowed his eyes at the older man for a minute before shaking his head and asking, "So what are you doing here Gibbs?" He was trying to keep his tone light, but he really just sounded tired.

Gibbs gave a slight shrug. "Making sure you don't break Rule Five."

"Rule – What?" The detective's brows were furrowed as he stared at Gibbs in confusion.

"Rule Five," the agent repeated patiently. "Rule Five is 'you don't waste good'."

"Don' – Right…" DiNozzo said slowly before shaking his head again. "Okay. Don't waste good. Got it. Any more sage words of advice, or can I order a pizza and take a shower now?"

Gibbs just stared at the kid, not fazed by the snarky attitude or annoyed body language. It was almost amusing to see the young detective trying to intimidate him with a glare. The marine would hand it to him though, it was a good glare, just not on someone who, as Abby put it, 'has a glare for every occasion'.

Waving his hand in a 'go ahead' gesture, Gibbs decided to put their conversation on hold. The kid was looking for a fight, and the agent wasn't going to give it to him.

Rolling his eyes, DiNozzo pulled out his cell phone and called the pizza place. He watched the agent fiddle with his coffee maker with scrutinizing eyes as he placed his order.

"Uh…Can I help you?" the detective drawled in a tone that clearly said 'what the hell do you think you're doing' when he hung up the phone.

"Nah, I got it," Gibbs replied easily, turning the machine on after finally getting it set up.

Huffing out a frustrated sigh, DiNozzo muttered, "Whatever," as he pushed his way past the agent and disappeared behind one of the doors down the hallway.

Part II

"You're still here," DiNozzo commented in surprise when he came out of the bathroom to find Gibbs sitting on his couch flipping through one of his sports magazines, an empty coffee cup sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

"Yep," the agent replied simply, looking up to see the detective wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. "Didn't think I would be? Or do you always greet the pizza guy dressed like that?"

DiNozzo scowled at the sarcasm. Picking up the jeans that were laying across the end table, he retorted pointedly, "This is my only clean pair of pants."

Gibbs smirked, but didn't comment as the kid turned and stalked back down the hallway, shutting the bedroom door with more force than necessary.

When the detective came back a few minutes later he was wearing the jeans and a plain black t-shirt, but his wet hair was still sticking up in every direction and his feet were bare.

After glaring at the agent for a moment, the kid walked over to the fridge. "Since you're apparently not going anywhere, you want a beer?" he offered reluctantly, annoyance laced in his words.

"Sure," Gibbs accepted with a smile. He managed not to laugh as the detective grumbled as he pulled out a second beer and thrust it into the agent's hand before plopping down on the couch next to him.

For a few minutes neither man spoke. They both just sat there in silence drinking their beers. Though, where Gibbs was just sipping his, DiNozzo was practically chugging.

Reaching for his coat that he'd taken off when he sat down, Gibbs pulled out a newspaper and handed it to the detective. "Here."

Turning it over in his hand for a moment, DiNozzo furrowed his brows. "This is a newspaper."

"Uh-huh."

"A DC newspaper."

Gibbs nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Uh…Gibbs?" DiNozzo began slowly, looking at the paper. "These are apartment listings. In case you missed the signs on the way here, I live in Baltimore."

"For now," Gibbs allowed.

But that just seemed to confuse the detective even more. "Okay, I know I pretty much said I'm leaving Baltimore, but I haven't decided where I'm going yet."

The agent turned and just looked at him.

It took a few minutes, but understanding finally dawned on the kid. However, instead of just confusion, his expression was now a mixture of surprise, amusement, and confusion.

"Are you offering me a job Agent Gibbs?" DiNozzo finally asked.

The agent shrugged. "Rule Five."

"Don't waste good," came the automatic response.

Gibbs smirked. "And you're good."

DiNozzo stared at the paper in his hand. "Navy cop, huh?" he muttered.

"Uh-huh."

"Federal agent?"

"Uh-huh."

Taking a deep breath, the detective sat up and leaned forward, placing the newspaper on the coffee table. "Uh…listen Gibbs," DiNozzo began quietly, both serious and apologetic. "I appreciate the offer and all, but…I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not?" the agent challenged.

Right now DiNozzo looked more like a kid than Gibbs had seen him, and it had nothing to do with his youthful looks.

"Is it because of your father?"

The detective's head snapped up at that. "What do you know about my father?" His tone was hard, almost dangerous.

Gibbs kept his challenging tone, but his expression was gentle. "That he's been a person of interest to the FBI in several fraud cases, but never charged. From what I hear, he's a hell of a con man." The agent looked at DiNozzo for a moment and smirked. "Must be why you're so good at undercover work." The detective's eyes flashed, and Gibbs amended, "Or at least part of the reason."

Looking away, DiNozzo drained the last of his beer. Shaking his head with a bitter chuckle, the kid stood up and muttered, "Guess I shouldn't be surprised. You're not stupid, Agent Gibbs. It figures you would've checked me out, especially after the way we met."

It was true; the agent had had Abby do a full background on Detective Anthony DiNozzo Junior when he'd got back to the Navy Yard after finding out Tommy DeMarco was really an undercover detective. He knew he was from New York, and that DiNozzo's mother had died when he was eight, and the circumstances surrounding her death were suspicious, despite the fact she'd been sick for a while. Gibbs had also found out that DiNozzo's father had disowned him when he was twelve, and after that the kid went to seven different boarding schools before finally graduating from the Remington Military Academy in Rhode Island. He knew that DiNozzo had gone to Ohio State on a full ride, where, in addition to being active in a fraternity, he played both basketball and football, and graduated with a Bachelor's degree in physical education. The agent also found out about the kid DiNozzo had pulled out of the fire in Baltimore when he was there for a tournament in college.

As far as jobs went, Gibbs knew about the multiple odd jobs the kid had worked during college. He'd also found out what Bates had meant when he said DiNozzo had a two year warranty. After finishing his academy training, where he was the top of his class, DiNozzo had only stayed at his first law enforcement job at the Peoria Police Department for two years before moving to Philadelphia. From the reports Gibbs had read from his time there, it was no wonder the kid only stayed for eighteen months before moving again, this time to Baltimore. He made detective quick, and he _was_ good. But if it hadn't been for the Ellis case, Gibbs had a feeling DiNozzo would've left Baltimore after the incident six months ago. It seemed when Bates mentioned offering him a deal, he hadn't just been making it up to protect the kid's cover.

But Gibbs didn't tell him any of this. The kid knew he'd looked into him. If he wanted to find out how much the agent knew, then he could ask. So the marine stayed silent as he watched the detective pace his kitchen for a few minutes before stopping and turning back to Gibbs.

"Ya know, usually once people find out about my father, they wonder why I became a cop. Most don't even take me seriously after that, if they ever did in the first place," DiNozzo said quietly. "But you – " he continued with a scoff, wagging his finger at the agent. "You're sitting there offering me a job."

Gibbs gave a quick nod before shrugging, "I'm not most people."

The detective rolled his eyes, muttering a "No kidding."

It was another few moments of pacing before DiNozzo stopped once again, this time looking at Gibbs with a level of seriousness the agent had rarely seen, in anyone. "Why?"

His voice was quiet, but it was the honest curiosity there, along with the almost heartbreaking confusion written on the kid's face, that had the agent standing up to go toe-to-toe with the detective.

" _You_ are not your father," Gibbs stated firmly, staring straight into the kid's eyes. " _You_ are a hell of a detective. _You_ are good. And _I_ think you'd make a good agent." The marine shrugged before adding lightly, "Besides, you already know the bastard you'd be working for."

DiNozzo snickered, fighting a smile.

But there was a knock on the door before he could reply.

After paying the delivery guy and setting the pizza on the coffee table, the detective walked to the fridge and pulled out two beers, wordlessly handing one to the agent.

"You like pizza?" the kid asked lightly.

Gibbs gave a half-smile, and accepted the offer with a nod.

Sighing heavily, DiNozzo held up his beer in toast. "Cheers…Boss."


End file.
